Remorse
by Ker-rin
Summary: Read if you feel like being depressed. I like it, but I like being depressed. i think you intellectuals will like it :)


Hermione rubbed her fingers clean up the blood on them.  
  
"Honestly, I don't know why they still try to stop me." She said to no one. "I mean, don't they realize I'm the most powerful witch in the world?" She patted the book in her bag of weapons carefully. "Knowledge _is_ power." She said, smiling at her reflections in the knife she had just killed harry with.  
  
"Oh dear, harry, I'm _so_ sorry I killed you, I think I'm gonna cry." She gave a fake sniffle and then smiled at the wife.  
  
Patting the book she mused about what she had just done. She patted her stomach proudly, "It's going to be a powerful baby. Of course, Harry wasn't hard to seduce. You would think a former head boy would be a little bit more bright."  
  
For a moment It happened. The feeling she had right after she killed them. When she felt It she was sorry for what she done. It was remorse, she knew, but she would never admit this.  
  
"He would not approve of my feeling. No, He would not like it at all. He feels no remorse. Remorse is for fools, but he says I am a fool."  
  
Hermione turned her head nervously from side to side, as if checking to see if He was watching.  
  
Carefully, she began to perform the ritual that she had done far too many times. She took the knife nervously up to him ring finger, a finger that, no doubt, would never hold a ring. She twisted the knife along the scar that had already formed from performing the ritual so many God Damn times.  
  
"Too much death, dear book, too much." The book, as usual, gave no response. "How did I get to be like this? How did I turn to this Dark Life?"  
  
Her finger had began to bleed and she felt relief flood to her hardened heart. Relief from remorse.  
  
She looked at Harry, touching her finger to the knife wound she had bestowed earlier.  
  
"You used to be my best friend." She said nostalgically, as if speaking of some other life.  
  
She rubbed her stomach again. "Your child, he's like you." She said, hardly knowing what she meant. This happened sometimes, after she killed them. Sometimes she's start talking nonsense. She never really knew what she was talking about. The words just formed and with them formed sentences and with them formed messages she could never hope to interpret.  
  
"How did it come to this, Harry?" She asked the corpse. It offered no response. It just stared with those horrifying green eyes that seemed to screech "Murderer" at her.  
  
"He can be so....convincing....I didn't mean to become his servant." She said, Harry just stared his vacant stare.  
  
"Stop it!" She screamed. "Why do you always have to stare!?"  
  
Hermione was falling apart. Her cold exterior had collapsed. The walls had dropped.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Harry." She said, this time free of the morbid sarcasm.  
  
She reached carefully for the knife at her side.  
  
"It's time to end this." She said aiming carefully at her wrist.   
  
She looked at her stomach, her womb. She knew the baby was there for some reason. She could feel that bit of pure good radiating inside of her. She would let it live.  
  
***  
9 Months Later-  
  
Hermione gasped and pushed for what seemed like hours. She had escaped from His control. She lived now as a muggle. She was poor, a bum of sorts, but she was so happy. So happy to be free of the pain of killing.  
  
The child was about to be brought into the world. Relief flooded her and she smiled. It was almost over.  
  
Finally it was over. She stared at her baby, there was a certain oddity in her eyes. Instead of having the conventional Baby blue that ever child has, she had green eyes.  
  
"She is good, just like her father." Hermione said calmly. She placed her baby carefully inside a muggle church.  
  
Then she started walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, until finally a muggle shotgun could be heard. Then it was all over.  
  
All over.  
  
***  
  
Epilogue-  
  
The child grew up into a beautiful girl and when she was accepted to Hogwarts she was always told of her total resemblance to her father, but still when she looked at the pictures of her forever sad mother she knew that there was part of her in her. And sometimes, when the girl did something very wrong she would make a little cut on her index finger. Just a little cut, just to show a little remorse.


End file.
